


Not Letting Go

by fishfingersandjellybabies



Category: Batman (Comics), Super Sons (Comics)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-24 03:34:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9697817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishfingersandjellybabies/pseuds/fishfingersandjellybabies
Summary: Jon didn’t care that Ra’s was family. That the situation was complicated. He would not let that bastard hurt Damian again.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Jon’s like, 27 and Damian’s around 30. I love making people save Damian. Love IT. Jon literally starts wedding planning on the jet on the way back to Gotham. He’s also sappy as hell and like, reproposes every day, and likes to tell the story that he proposed in the midst of battle and saving his lover etc. Damian thinks he’s a huge loser (but he’s thrilled that Jon is his huge loser).

“This is suicide.” Batman growled over the communicator. “And the last thing Damian would want. Clark, for god’s sake, control your son, or he’s going to-”

“Just…” Clark sounded weary. Terrified. Knowing. “Just be careful, Jon. Please.”

“Always, Dad.” Jon smiled, despite the fact his father couldn’t see him, all the way up here in the clouds over the Atlantic Ocean. “Bruce, I promise – I’ll bring him home.”

Bruce didn’t respond right away, though Jon didn’t need him to. Knew Bruce had been terrified since the moment they got the call. Not only for Damian, but for Jon too. Because there was no confirmation of Damian’s status, not really, and he wouldn’t let Clark potentially lose a son this day, too.

“…We’ll be close behind.” Bruce whispered, after a moment. “We’ll back you up.”

And suddenly, Jon could hear fumbling, as if his father and Bruce were being pushed out of the way.

“And whatever you do.” It was Tim, and he sounded desperate. “Do _not_ fight Ra’s. If you see him, run. Do not engage with him, do not speak to him. Just find Damian and get out.”

“That was my original plan, Red.” Jon hummed, waving at a bird as he passed it. “But don’t worry. I’ll leave him for you to deal with.”

“Good.” Tim said shortly. Jon heard him turn away, and his mumbling afterthoughts: “Thinks he can take my brother and get away with it…”

Clark was instantly back. “We’ll radio if we get anything.”

“Sounds good.” Jon nodded as, through the clouds, he could see the compound coming to form. “I love you, Dad.”

Clark paused, and then weakly. “I love you too, son.”

Jon cut his microphone after that, slowing down as the compound became clearer. He hovered above it for a moment, not bothering in trying to hide. Hell, he _wanted_ to be seen. He wanted the League to know he was here.

He wanted _Ra’s al Ghul_ to know he was here.

He listened as carefully as he could. Tried to keep himself calm so his powers wouldn’t give out, tried to remember everything Damian taught him about meditation and keeping his center.

There were hundreds of heartbeats, but he ignored them all, listening for one.

 _The_ one.

The one he knew as well as his own. The one he’d fallen asleep listening to for the last…however many years, no matter how far apart they were. The one he loved more than any other on the planet. The one he’d kissed, on a wrist, on a chest, on a throat.

…There it was. Below the water on the north side.

He inhaled sharply, balled his hands into fists, and dove that direction.

He could hear the assassins shouting within the compound, knew they had all seen him and were getting their defenses up.

He wondered if Ra’s had been told yet.

He decided he didn’t care.

The heartbeat got louder, and Jon zeroed in on a building that seemed to be right above the sound. And he wasn’t subtle. He wasn’t careful. He burst through the roof like it was made of paper.

There were assassins there, and they tried to fight him, but they, of course, didn’t stand a chance. He did his best not to hurt them too badly, and in the end decided locking them out of the cabin via a wall of ice was the best course of action.

He didn’t get them all, of course, and once he was finished freezing the doors and windows, he turned and saw the remaining personnel heading downwards, weapons at the ready, as if going to guard something.

_Got ‘em._

He didn’t fly down the stairs, but calmly walked. Hummed a little even. Let them know he was coming, and that he was unafraid.

There were only four of them, but they looked wiling to fight to the death anyway, to stop him from getting through the door they’d built a wall in front of. Jon almost felt bad for them.

“If you’d just move.” Jon sighed. “Let me take him home. I’ll be out of your hair in like, five minutes.”

No one budged.

“Well, fine.” Jon shrugged, letting his eyes heat up in red. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you or anything.”

He melted their weapons, dodged their hits, and froze them to the wall.

“Hope you didn’t have to go to the bathroom or anything. That ice takes _days_ to melt, especially in cooler conditions like down here.” Jon explained with a smile, moving towards the heavy door and pulling at it with a quiet grunt. As soon as it was open, he glanced over his shoulder. “Damian and I _tested_ it.”

He ducked into the room without another word, looking around. It was a dungeon, looked practically medieval. The corridor was lit by flaming torches, the cells separated by stone walls and wooden doors.

He punched each door open as he passed it. They were all empty.

But that heartbeat was here. It was practically throbbing in his ears.

And he knew from Damian’s stories – his grandfather was dramatic. So, really, putting Damian in the furthest, last cell wasn’t beneath him. So after he punched the second to last door and found nothing, he stopped and exhaled.

The heartbeat was slow. Almost _too_ slow, and that was dangerous. Damian needed help, and fast.

Still, he was calm as he turned to face the door, as he carefully used his heat vision to melt the doorknob and any lock it had, and pushed the door open.

Damian was there. The source of the heartbeat had been found.

He was on his knees and tied to the wall, with ropes lined with barbed wire around his separated wrists. He was shirtless, and blood ran down his skin with every move he made, every wheezing breath he took.

There were more injuries than just that, though. Bruises and cuts and gashes all along his chest and face. Blood relation meant nothing to Ra’s, apparently.

Not when you’re desperate for a new vessel.

When he stepped into the room, Damian still didn’t look up. Still didn’t notice him, or maybe he just couldn’t. Too injured to understand his surroundings.

“…Damian?”

Damian jerked, and his head flew up. His eyes widened immediately, and he slumped in his hold, almost as if he were upset.

“B…” He rasped, tugging forward, like he wanted to be closer to Jon, causing more cuts from the wire. He didn’t seem to mind the new injuries. “Beloved?”

Jon grinned, even as he moved forward. “You sound surprised.”

“I…” But Damian seemed speechless, as Jon crouched in front of him, looking over the injuries, and figuring out the best way to free Damian’s arms. But Damian’s quiet voice broke into his thought process. “…I thought you’d be angry.”

“Angry?” Jon hummed nonchalantly. “Why?”

“…Because my grandfather ruined your proposal.” Damian replied dumbly.

“So, what. Just because your dumb-ass grandpa interrupted me _mid-proposal_ to kidnap you away, you thought I’d be mad at _you_?” Jon asked. Damian pursed his lips, and Jon couldn’t help but bark a laugh. “No, no, no. That just means I’m doubly mad at _him_.”

“…He’ll kill you if he finds out you’re here.” Damian mumbled, involuntarily leaning his cheek against Jon’s collarbone when the younger leaned forward to work at his binds. “…I’m so sorry, Jon.”

“He can sure try. I’d probably kill him first.” Jon said pleasantly, carefully pulling at the wires. “…And I know how your brain works, Damian. And my answer is no.”

He felt Damian shift up to look at him. “No?”

“No, none of this changes anything.” Jon glanced down with a grin. “I still want to marry you.”

Damian’s eyes seemed to mist over, and Jon couldn’t tell if that was from exhaustion and blood loss, or emotions. “…It’s too much trouble.”

“Is it?”

“ _I’m_ too much trouble.” Damian clarified.

Jon broke the wire, and Damian’s arm dropped almost lifelessly to his side. Jon kept his grin as he looked down at Damian, and gently took hold of Damian’s face with his now-free hands.

“Good thing I like trouble.” He almost purred, leaning in for a quick kiss. Damian practically melted against him, and again – it was a toss-up on whether it was from emotion or injury. Jon held him anyway, though. Slid his hands away from Damian’s face, wrapped one around his waist, holding his weight, and reached the other out to free Damian’s remaining arm. “Now, come on, handsome. Let’s get you home.”

Damian didn’t respond, but Jon felt his eyelashes brush his neck as Damian’s eyes fluttered closed. He swallowed down his worry, tugging as hard as he dared against the barbed wire pressing into his lover’s skin.

“…I still didn’t get your answer, though.” Jon tried to keep the mood light. Tried to keep talking to keep Damian conscious. “And we have a moment, here. I think I should ask again.”

Damian stirred, but barely. “…Hm?”

“Will you marry me?” Jon asked softly. “Please?”

He broke the wire then, but instead of Damian’s arm dropping, he seemed to use all his remaining strength to drape it over Jon’s shoulder.

“Yes. Of course.” When Jon looked down, Damian’s eyes were slits, but there was a faint smile on his face too. “I’d like nothing more.”

Jon smiled, brought his hand up to hold Damian’s face once more and was in the process of leaning down to kiss Damian again, when from behind him came:

“How sweet.”

Damian tensed in his arms, at least as much as he could, and Jon’s grin dropped as he looked over his shoulder.

“I’m taking him home.” He growled. “And you’re not going to stop me.”

“Oh?” Ra’s asked. “Are you going to fight _me_ and hold _him_ at the same time? I’d be curious to see that.”

“If I have to.” Jon returned, ignoring Damian’s quiet, pleading sounds. “I won’t let you hurt him, Ra’s. I _won’t_.”

“And what would you do to stop me?”

“Anything.”

“What,” Ra’s barked a laugh. “Even _kill_ me?”

Jon hesitated only a second. “…If I had to. Sure.”

“Oh, really?” Ra’s sneered. “I didn’t think murder was in the Supers’ style book.”

“Avoiding death of others is my father’s mantra.” Jon hummed, letting the red heat grow in his eyes. “Not mine.” A pause. “Not when it comes to Damian.”

“…Worth…” Suddenly there was a hand on Jon’s cheek, turning his head and forcing him to look down. Damian looked so frail, in so much pain, but he used all the strength he had to hold Jon’s face tenderly between his fingers. “Not worth it. I’m not worth it, Beloved. Please, don’t.”

“You are.” Jon promised. He let the heat remain in his eyes, even as he kissed Damian’s forehead. “Now rest, okay? Let me take care of this.”

“So _tender_.” Ra’s mocked. “Did you know there was a time when I could have told him to kill you and he’d do it, no questions asked?”

“I don’t care.” Jon countered, slowly standing. Kept Damian tight to his chest, and his heat vision at the ready as he turned to face the door. “Now _move_.”

“Afraid I can’t.” Ra’s sighed. “Not until you put Damian back where you found him.”

“No.” Jon spit. “Find someone else to be your new vessel.”

“See, that’s the problem – I’ve looked. For _years_. But no one else compares.” Ra’s shrugged. “…Don’t make me hurt you, Jonathan. I don’t wish to.”

“As if you _could_.” Jon hummed, stepping forward. He didn’t relax the heat vision, but kept it a second option still. He was taller than Ra’s, he could just shove him out of the way, and that’s what he intended to do. “Half Kryptonian, remember?”

“But _only_ half, and you misunderstood me. I did not mean _physically_ harm you. There’s more than one way to hurt a person.” Ra’s explained, even as Jon knocked him away from the doorframe with a gentle bump of his shoulder, turning to walk down the hall. Ra’s gave him a few steps before he suddenly grabbed Jon’s elbow and spun him back around. Before Jon could blink, Ra’s had grabbed Damian’s hair and yanked his head back, holding a knife up to his throat. Damian was too weak to even let out a painful moan. “I _meant_ I would symbolically rip your heart out and leave you bleeding.”

Jon grit his teeth and tried to pull back, but Ra’s just came with them, digging the knife deeper into Damian’s neck with every attempt to get away.

“He’s _my_ grandson. He is only alive because I needed a new vessel. I was thwarted by his father when he was a child, but no more. I will _not_ wait any more.” Ra’s hissed. “And if I can’t have him, then no one else will either.”

And Jon saw red. Literally and figuratively.

“No.” He said coldly, firing heat from his eyes straight into Ra’s’s face. The old man immediately released Damian and stumbled back, clutching the side of his face with his free hand. “No, that’s not how this works.”

Ra’s recovered quickly, clutching the knife tighter and lunging forward once more. Jon just hit him in the face with heat again, throwing him against the far wall.

“He is not a _thing_ to be _owned_. He is not yours to _possess_.” Jon continued. Stayed where he was, and hit Ra’s again, this time in the throat. “He’s not alive only to serve _you_ , for you to hurt. He’s here to be _loved_ , by his family, by his friends and by _me_. He’s here to save the world, because despite your attempts otherwise, he’s a good person, and a goddamn _hero_.”

Jon didn’t realize how hard his hands were digging into Damian’s flesh until he heard an agonized grunt. He loosened his grip only slightly, and kept his attention on Ra’s. Ignored his already blistering and steaming skin. Blasted him with another hit to his chest. Right where his heart was.

“Jon.” Damian tried weakly.

“And I wasn’t kidding, Ra’s.” Jon continued, feeling his anger growing, fueled by his protectiveness. By his need to save Damian at all costs – like Damian always had for him too. “I’ll kill you. I’ll kill you for him, and I won’t feel a _lick_ of remorse for it.”

Damian tried again, reaching up to hold Jon’s face with one hand. “Jon.”

“So come on.” Jon blasted the hand holding the knife now, and Ra’s yelped in pain as he dropped it to the ground. “Come at me again, old man. I dare you. Threaten Damian again, I _fucking dare you_.”

Suddenly Damian’s hand was over his eyes. “Beloved, stop. Please.”

And Jon did. Blinked his heat vision away, and looked down at the man in his arms. His eyes were fluttering, and blood was dripping from his body onto the ground, oozing between Jon’s fingers.

“Don’t worry about him. I don’t…I don’t want you to…” Damian wheezed, shifting his hand to hold Jon’s face. Stroked at his cheek, accidentally smearing his own blood across it. “…Please just take me home.”

Jon watched him for a moment.

“I just want to go home.” Damian whispered, closing his eyes. “With you.”

Jon hesitated for a moment. Cocked his head to the side, just momentarily, then smiled. “Okay. We can do that.”

“Oh no.” Ra’s coughed, trying to get back to his feet as Jon turned away. “You won’t be leaving that easily. The only way you’re leaving here is if you do exactly what you said. You’re only leaving if you _kill me_ , Jonathan!”

“I’d say come chase me, grandpa, but you’re going to be a little preoccupied for a while.” Jon called over his shoulder. “So, toodles.”

“Preoccu…” Ra’s breathed. Suddenly, there were loud crashes from above and on the stairs, and suddenly two bodies were jumping over the railing, storming into the dungeons.

“What have I told you, Ra’s?” Tim shouted as he stomped forward, Bruce close on his heels. “What have I told you about _kidnapping my brother_ , hm?”

“We’ve gone easy on you for years.” Bruce growled. “But this is the last straw. Enough is enough.”

Ra’s looked between the two, before glancing back to Jon, who was calmly ducking around them, and leaving the cells.

But when he reached the doorway: “Oh, one last thing, Ra’s?” Jon called. Tim and Bruce both stopped, waited for him to finish speaking. “I know you heard it, but Damian and I are getting married.” Jon grinned. “Don’t expect an invite to the wedding.”

He spun away before Ra’s could respond, and let himself smile as he heard his soon-to-be in-laws picking up where he left off.

Jon slowly took the stairs upwards, and instead of leaving through the roof where he came in, he just walked out the now-destroyed front door of the house, into the courtyard.

His father stood there.

“Everything okay?” Clark asked, stepping over the unconscious bodies of the ninja he’d probably just taken out himself. “How’s he doing?”

“Not great.” Jon admitted, glancing back down. Damian had slid his hand away from Jon’s face, and it was currently propped awkwardly against his chest as Damian floated in and out of consciousness. “Do you think they have a medic here or anything?”

Clark shook his head and pointed to the side. “Bruce flew the jet here. Alfred is waiting inside. Get going, and I’ll tell him you’re coming.”

“Thanks, pops.” Jon nodded before jumping into the air, and flying in the direction he had indicated.

“…Jon?” Damian whimpered halfway there. “Beloved?”

“Hm?”

“I love you.” Damian mumbled. “Thank you for saving me.” A pause. “I’m sorry you want to marry me.”

“I love you too, you’re very welcome,” Jon listed off. “And apology _not_ accepted. Because marrying you and spending the rest of my life with you will be the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“…Agree to disagree.” Damian breathed. Jon laughed, making a mental note to spoil Damian rotten as soon as this situation was over. “…Jon?”

“Yes, dear.”

He felt Damian frown at the pet name. “Next time, you get to be the damsel in distress.”

Jon barked a loud laugh once more as the jet came into view, Dick standing at the door, waiting impatiently for them.

“Sure thing.” Jon promised as he landed, pressing one more kiss to Damian’s head, before he was ripped from his arms and taken to the medbay. Damian looked up at him, his face a mixture of exhaustion, pain, gratefulness and mild annoyance. “I’ll mark it in my calendar.”


End file.
